


(you don't have to) love me

by camboy_hynjin



Series: use me [4]
Category: ONEUS (Band), ONEWE (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aromantic Lee Giwook | Cya, Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, Dom Bottom Dongmyeong, Established Relationship, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Switching, Light Dom/sub, Light Religion Kink, Love Confessions, M/M, Riding, Sub Top Youngjo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26760970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camboy_hynjin/pseuds/camboy_hynjin
Summary: “I fucked Keonhee in Youngjo’s bed,” Dongmyeong confesses, keeping his eyes shut because he can’t bear to see Giwook’s expression.“Now why would you do a thing like that?”“Because.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m fucking stupid, and I think I’m… fuck, I’m in love with Youngjo.”
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Son Dongmyeong, Lee Giwook | Cya & Son Dongmyeong, referenced Lee Keonhee/Son Dongmyeong
Series: use me [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918399
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	(you don't have to) love me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @kittenhyvnjin for being a wonderful beta reader and an overwhelming source of support throughout the course of this series. None of this would have been possible without you. <3

Giwook is at the dorm when Dongmyeong gets back, lounging on the couch with his laptop and his noise-canceling headphones over his ears. He looks up when Dongmyeong comes in, lifting his headphones up on one side so he can hear him. “Where’ve you been?” 

The question is more of a formality, really; after 5 years of living together, it’s not much of a concern where the members of ONEWE go when they leave the dorm, especially because it’s usually somewhere innocuous like the studio. Dongmyeong doesn’t have to answer, truthfully or at all. But Dongmyeong is tired of running. 

“I was with Keonhee,” he admits. 

Giwook presses a button on his keyboard to stop whatever he’s watching, shutting his laptop and taking his headphones off fully. He looks at Dongmyeong, studying him. “You don’t seem too happy about that.” 

“I’m not.” 

Giwook’s tiny mouth presses into a frown, and he rises up off of the couch to come over to Dongmyeong, pulling the smaller boy into a hug. Dongmyeong clings to him, burying his face in the crook of Giwook’s neck. 

“We’re the only ones in the dorm,” Giwook says softly, and Dongmyeong immediately knows what he’s insinuating. “If you wanted to, we could...” 

Dongmyeong shakes his head quickly. God, he didn’t realize how bad he was about that until Giwook spelled it out. He never handles his emotions when he’s upset like a normal person, he always runs to someone else’s bed. And that’s how he ended up where he is now. “I don’t want to fuck, Giwook. Or make out, or anything like that.” 

“Okay.” Giwook accepts it easily. Dongmyeong’s always admired how chill he is, level-headed in any situation. “Then what do you want?” 

That’s a question that requires a lot more thought, which Giwook picks up on when Dongmyeong doesn’t immediately answer. “Think about it. Take a shower or a bath if you want to. I’ll be here whenever you need me, whatever you need.” 

“Thank you,” Dongmyeong says softly, lifting his head to press a soft kiss to Giwook’s cheek. Giwook wrinkles his nose dramatically, and Dongmyeong giggles. He loves his best friend. 

A shower helps clear Dongmyeong’s head, and by the time he emerges from the bathroom, some of the guilt that’s been heavy in his stomach since he had sex with Keonhee has finally eased off. He dresses in a comfortable pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, toweling his damp hair off before seeking Giwook. 

The younger boy is in the kitchen, hovering over the stove. Dongmyeong smells tea brewing. He creeps up behind his bandmate, resting his chin on Giwook’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around his waist. 

“I didn’t ask you to make tea,” he says softly. 

“Who said it was for you?” Giwook teases. 

Dongmyeong scrunches his nose, digging his chin harder into Giwook’s shoulder. Giwook yelps, and Dongmyeong knows he’s exaggerating the pain when he starts laughing immediately after. Dongmyeong lets up then, letting go of Giwook’s waist so he can focus on making the tea. 

“How was your shower?” Giwook asks. Dongmyeong appreciates the small talk, knowing it’s Giwook’s way of leaving the door open for Dongmyeong to open up without pushing him before he’s ready. 

“Good.” Dongmyeong looks down at his nails, absently picking at the cuticles. Maybe he should start painting his nails again, so he’s less tempted to pick at them. He doesn’t want to end up with his nailbeds ragged like Dongju’s. 

Giwook is quiet after that, and Dongmyeong doesn’t make a move to speak up until the two of them are snuggled on the couch with mugs of tea in hand, Dongmyeong curling into Giwook. 

“I shouldn’t have fucked Keonhee,” he says softly, mumbling the words between sips of tea, half-hoping they won’t be noticed. 

“So why did you?” Giwook asks evenly. There’s no judgement in his voice, and that’s why Dongmyeong feels comfortable opening up to him like this. No matter what he says, he knows Giwook won’t think any differently of him. 

“Because I wanted to fuck someone else,” he admits, staring intently at his mug of tea. Chamomile. It’s supposed to be relaxing. “And that fucking terrifies me, because you know I don’t do feelings, but I’m fucking... feeling something for someone.” It’s the closest he’s come to admitting it, even to himself, and he still can’t manage to say the words out loud. “So I ran. Instead of trying to deal with it, I... I tried to get Geonhak to slap some sense into me literally, and then I fucked Keonhee. And it didn’t fucking work.” 

Giwook hums, a tiny noise that Dongmyeong would have missed if he wasn’t so attuned to Giwook’s quiet presence. “Did you think it would work?” he asks finally. 

The question catches Dongmyeong off guard. He hasn’t thought about it. Not thinking about it was kind of the whole goal of his actions. But thinking about it now... he knows the answer, and he realizes he’s known it all along. 

“No.” His hands are shaking, and he moves to set his half-drunk mug of tea on the coffee table before he drops it and causes a bigger mess. 

Giwook intercepts, taking the mug from him and setting it down carefully. “The perk of having an aro best friend,” he starts, lips curved up in a small smile. “Is I can look at this shit logically, without romantic feelings clouding the equation.” 

“Okay, you don’t have to brag.” Dongmyeong pouts, laying his head on Giwook’s shoulder. 

Giwook chuckles. “I’m not. But you know, it’s true.” 

“I do.” Dongmyeong sighs. Sometimes he wonders what it would be like to be Giwook, with all the love in his heart purely platonic in nature. If Dongmyeong was like that, he wouldn’t be in the situation he is now; he would’ve been able to keep fucking his friends and bandmates with no strings attached, because his only attraction to them would have been physical. 

But Dongmyeong can’t imagine that, really. He loves too hard, he always has, and the proof of that is the first song he ever wrote back in his first year of high school, a dramatic love ballad about a girl he spoke to once before deciding she was his soulmate. He doesn’t even remember her name now, so obviously, that was incorrect. “I don’t know why I ever thought this would work.” 

“Because you love us. And your love language is sex, so it makes sense you want to share that with the people you care about.” 

Dongmyeong stares at him, wishing he had a snappy comeback, but Giwook’s hit the mark dead-on. “I hate that I can’t argue with you.” 

“It hasn’t stopped you before,” Giwook points out. He’s not wrong, but… 

“I’m trying to be honest right now.” Dongmyeong hugs his knees to his chest, physically guarding himself to combat the emotional vulnerability. “Because lying about my feelings and pretending they don’t exist is obviously not working.” 

Giwook puts his hand on Dongmyeong’s knee, feather-light. It’s reassurance, allowing Dongmyeong the space to open up on his own terms. Dongmyeong closes his eyes, and everything is quiet except for the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

“I fucked Keonhee in Youngjo’s bed,” he confesses, keeping his eyes shut because he can’t bear to see Giwook’s expression. 

“Now why would you do a thing like that?” 

“Because.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m fucking stupid, and I think I’m… fuck, I’m in love with Youngjo.” 

There’s silence. Dongmyeong can only wonder how Giwook’s connecting the dots, how stupid and illogical his actions must seem. They are, and he knows it. 

He expects Giwook to criticize him. Instead he asks, “How long have you known?” 

“Since April. The last time I slept with him, I…” He trails off, distracted by the sound of his phone vibrating with a notification. He looks at the screen, and his stomach drops. 

It’s Youngjo. “We need to talk.” 

The panic must show on his face, because Giwook is pulling Dongmyeong into his arms before he has a chance to process it, hugging him tightly. 

Youngjo knows. His twisted desire in the heat of the moment is playing out, and Dongmyeong feels sick now that he’s faced with the reality. Why did he ever think it was a good idea to fuck someone else in Youngjo’s bed? He’s stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“Myeong,” Giwook says softly, cutting through the noise in Dongmyeong’s brain. “It’s okay. You’ll get through this.” 

Giwook doesn’t say “Everything’s going to be alright.” He doesn’t say “You and Youngjo will be fine.” He can’t promise either of those things, and Dongmyeong appreciates the honesty, the way Giwook doesn’t sugarcoat anything. 

“He texted me.” Dongmyeong can feel the way his heartbeat has gone irregular, spiked from his anxiety. “I’m going to throw up.” 

“You’re not,” Giwook says calmly. “Finish your tea. Then you can talk to him.” 

Dongmyeong doesn’t want to. “This is why I don’t do feelings. They’re fucking terrifying. I feel like I can’t breathe.” 

“You can,” Giwook reminds him. “Hyung doesn’t get angry, you know that.” 

It would be easier if he did. If Dongmyeong thought Youngjo would spit at him and curse his name, he could brace himself, armor up his heart and get over it. But he doesn’t know how Youngjo’s going to react, and that’s terrifying. 

He listens to Giwook, though. His mug of tea is empty by the time he finally texts Youngjo back. “So let’s talk.” 

Youngjo agrees to come over, because Dongmyeong knows it’s better if they talk about this in person, and Keonhee is still at his and Youngjo’s dorm. Giwook heads to his studio to give them some privacy, with a promise to Dongmyeong that he’ll drop everything and come back home the second he needs him. 

Then Dongmyeong is alone. He feels underdressed now in his t-shirt and sweatpants, but it’s not like Youngjo hasn’t seen him in worse. He wishes he had more tea, something to channel his nervous energy into. He’s debating making more when the doorbell rings. 

Dongmyeong’s head swims as he heads for the door, dizzy with anxiety. Youngjo is waiting on the other side, and the moment Dongmyeong sees him, his stomach swoops. 

He’s fucked. Completely, utterly, totally, undeniably fucked. 

“Hey,” he starts, voice unusually quiet and foreign to his own ears. Youngjo doesn’t respond, and that makes the knot in Dongmyeong’s stomach twist tighter. He steps aside, making room for Youngjo to enter the dorm. “Come in.” 

Youngjo does, scanning the room around him as he walks in. 

“It’s just us,” Dongmyeong informs him. 

Youngjo turns to him then, and there’s fire in his eyes as he holds up the crumpled note Dongmyeong left on his bed. “What the fuck is this?” 

_Sorry_. The single word Dongmyeong left on Youngjo’s pillowcase, as if that could possibly be enough to make up for having sex with Keonhee in his bed. He wonders if Youngjo knows that’s what the note is for. He has to, right? 

Dongmyeong opens his mouth to speak, but Youngjo cuts him off. “Keonhee told me everything, so don’t even think of lying to me.” 

_Not everything_ , Dongmyeong thinks. _He didn’t tell you I’m in love with you._

What he says is, “What do you want me to say?” 

“I want you to explain,” Youngjo says. His voice is ice cold, and that hurts even worse than if he were yelling. “Why the hell you and Keonhee had sex in my bed.” 

Dongmyeong can’t look at him. His chest hurts, from the weight of his own feelings and the guilt of what he’s done. “You don’t have to tell me it was fucked up. I know.” 

“That’s not answering my question.” 

Dongmyeong tries to take a deep breath, but it comes up shallow. He’s struggling to breathe, vision blurring, and he wants to crawl out of his skin. He’s not going to cry in front of Youngjo, not again. “Because I’m stupid, okay? I’m fucking stupid. Is that what you want to hear?” 

He can feel Youngjo staring at him, but he won’t meet his eyes. He can’t. “Dongmyeong.” Youngjo’s voice softens, and Dongmyeong feels like he’s cracking apart from the inside out. 

“I don’t have an excuse. I shouldn’t have done that, and I knew it the second I did,” Dongmyeong confesses. “I’m sorry.” 

The silence is deafening. He wants Youngjo to say something, anything. “You still didn’t tell me why.” 

Dongmyeong looks up, exasperated that Youngjo keeps harping on the one question he can’t give him an answer to. He’s expecting Youngjo’s face to be full of hard lines of anger or icy and uncaring, but his eyes are soft, mouth turning down in a frown that’s more concerned than upset. It steals all the fight from Dongmyeong’s bones. 

“Because I love you,” he whispers. “And I couldn’t fucking handle that, so I slept with everybody else instead.” 

Youngjo cups his face, and Dongmyeong stops breathing. He feels his heart hammering in his chest, threatening to burst through his skin. He's a raw nerve, torn open and exposed. 

Then Youngjo’s lips are on his, and Dongmyeong melts, letting the fire consume him alive. He kisses back the way he wouldn’t let himself last time, desperately meeting every press of Youngjo’s lips with his own. He’s losing control but he wants to, throwing his arms around Youngjo’s neck to try and keep him close. 

“You’re not stupid,” Youngjo murmurs, separating his mouth from Dongmyeong’s just enough to speak. “Not for the reasons you think.” 

Dongmyeong kisses him again before he can stop himself, before he has time to process Youngjo’s words, and when he does finally comprehend them, he pulls back. “Wait, huh?” 

Youngjo chuckles, stroking his thumb across Dongmyeong’s cheek affectionately, and Dongmyeong feels goddamn butterflies. “You think I don’t feel something for you? I told you last time, I dreamed about being with you again. I wasn’t lying.” 

Dongmyeong’s hands are trembling. He wouldn’t even allow himself to entertain the possibility that Youngjo might feel something for him beyond physical attraction; he wouldn’t even admit to himself that he could feel that way about Youngjo. It was just sex. It was always just sex. 

“Youngjo,” Dongmyeong starts. His throat is dry, and he swallows, struggling with the words. 

“I know this kind of thing is hard,” Youngjo says, tongue wetting his lips. Dongmyeong wants to kiss them again. “It’s easier when you can be mean and guarded and sleep in a different person’s bed every night and pretend it means nothing.” 

Dongmyeong feels naked, stripped all the way down to his very core. He thought he kept himself so carefully guarded, so how can Youngjo see through him like he’s transparent, skin and blood and bones turned to glass that reveals his fragile heart? 

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you,” he confesses, voice barely a whisper. He’s never been so scared. “The whole time I was with Keonhee. I was thinking of you. I wanted it to be you. That’s why we fucked in your bed.” 

“And that’s why you left the note,” Youngjo says, crumpling the paper in his hands. 

Dongmyeong nods, closing his eyes to hide the tears that suddenly fill them. “I’m sorry.” 

He breathes in, and the smell of cinnamon and musk is suddenly overwhelming. Dongmyeong thinks he’s losing it, haunted by Youngjo’s scent, until he feels warm arms wrap around him, and realizes Youngjo’s hugging him close to his chest. “It’s okay, Dongmyeong.” 

Dongmyeong is so, so tired of running. He lets out a sob before he can stop himself, burying his face in Youngjo’s t-shirt. “I hate this,” he says, but there’s no bite in it. He doesn’t have the strength left to fight. 

“You don’t even sound like you believe that.” 

“I hate crying,” he insists, pulling back to wipe his eyes. “Especially over some stupid boy.” 

“Hey!” Youngjo protests. 

Dongmyeong pouts. “What? I’m not wrong.” 

“You’re stupid.” Youngjo moves his hand to Dongmyeong’s waist, holding him while he takes deep breaths to calm down. “So what do you want, Dongmyeong?” 

He doesn’t know how to answer with words. They’ve never been his strong suit. He can’t channel his feelings into poetry or lyrics the way Giwook and Youngjo can. It’s why he never contributes to his band’s songwriting process; the reason his love language is physical touch. It’s easier to connect with his body than with his words. 

So that’s how he answers, locking eyes with Youngjo as he presses their bodies together. This close, Youngjo must be able to feel Dongmyeong's heartbeat hammering against his chest. “You. I want you, hyung.” 

Then Youngjo pulls him even closer, which Dongmyeong didn't think was possible before this moment, claiming his lips with his own. “Want you too,” Youngjo confesses between kisses, fisting the fabric of Dongmyeong’s t-shirt in his hands. “You’re a fool if you think I didn’t.” 

Dongmyeong bites Youngjo's lip hard enough that he winces, then soothes over it with his tongue. “I wouldn’t let myself think about it. I was too scared.” 

“That I wouldn’t like you back?” Youngjo asks. 

The butterflies in Dongmyeong’s stomach take flight, eating him alive from the inside. “That you would.” He doesn’t give the words room to breathe, kissing Youngjo again before he can respond. He lets instinct take over, and doesn’t even realize he’s leading Youngjo to his room until the back of his knees hit the bedframe of Dongmyeong’s bunk. 

“Thought you weren’t doing this anymore?” Youngjo asks, quirking an eyebrow at him. 

Dongmyeong pushes him down so he stumbles and lands splayed out across Dongmyeong’s bed. It’s déjà vu, taking Dongmyeong back to the last time they were in this position. The day he realized he was in love. 

“Not with other people.” He climbs on top of Youngjo, looking down into his dark eyes. He sees the universe in them, vast and uncharted and terrifying. He wants to dive in. “I’m done running. I want you. Only you.” 

Youngjo brings his hand up to Dongmyeong’s neck, pulling him down so their lips crash together. “Want you to ride me again,” Youngjo murmurs against his lips, and Dongmyeong shivers at the thought, from the memory of what it felt like last time. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling back so he can shimmy his sweatpants down and off. “Who told you you could make demands?” 

“You’re listening,” Youngjo points out, with the kind of grin that makes Dongmyeong want to slap him. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” he says without thinking, stomach fluttering when he realizes what he said. He loves him. _He loves him_. And he’s never known anything to be truer. 

Youngjo cups his face again, and Dongmyeong can’t calm his racing heart as he looks at him. “What if I told you I love you too?” he asks, and Dongmyeong forgets how to breathe. “Would that be okay?” 

Dongmyeong nods, unable to speak without air in his lungs. Then Youngjo’s kissing him again, gentle, and it somehow hurts worse than all the bruising, biting kisses that make his lips bleed. “Because I do,” he whispers against Dongmyeong’s lips. “I love you.” 

A laugh bubbles out of Dongmyeong’s chest before he can stop it, before he even knows why he’s laughing. “We’re so stupid.” 

Youngjo chuckles too, smoothing Dongmyeong’s hair back from his face. “We kinda are, yeah. But we know now.” 

“We know now.” Dongmyeong has so many questions: _How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?_ But right now, the only thing that matters is that he has Youngjo underneath him on his bed, he loves him, and Youngjo loves him too. 

“Get your clothes off,” Dongmyeong commands. 

Youngjo smiles, for once happy to go along with Dongmyeong’s orders. “Yes, goddess.” 

It hits different. The titles Youngjo calls him in the bedroom have always hit harder than what the other boys would say, but this is the first time Dongmyeong allows himself to feel the full weight of why: there is love behind it. Titles like “ma’am” elevate Dongmyeong to a position of power and importance, but they’re detached, formal. Calling Dongmyeong “goddess” means that Youngjo sees him as something special, to be worshiped and adored. How could he ever not know there was love in that? 

Dongmyeong waits until Youngjo’s clothes are off before reaching for his hands, placing them on his hips under his t-shirt. “Worship me.” It’s permission: to touch, to kiss, to do whatever the fuck he wants until Dongmyeong tells him otherwise, and Youngjo takes it, lifting Dongmyeong’s shirt up over his head. Dongmyeong lets him. He lets Youngjo kiss his neck, sucking hickeys into the skin that will definitely be visible to both of their bandmates if he doesn’t cover them up with makeup, but Dongmyeong doesn’t care. His body is the temple, and Youngjo has come to worship. 

“You’re beautiful,” Youngjo whispers against his skin. The words are familiar: Youngjo said them last time, and Dongmyeong couldn’t handle it. They were too emotional, too vulnerable. 

Now, Dongmyeong drinks the words in, letting them warm him up from the inside. “I'm not even wearing makeup.” 

“You don’t have to.” Youngjo’s lips trail lower, sucking a mark into Dongmyeong’s collarbone. “I told you, you don’t have to be wearing anything at all to be beautiful.” 

Dongmyeong hates that the words have an effect on him. Youngjo is greasy, and flirty, and acts like he thinks he’s God’s gift to humankind... but there’s a sincerity to it, a lack of shame that Dongmyeong finds disarming. 

“Just let me ride you already,” he says, and unlike last time, he’s not deflecting, just impatient. Youngjo lets him go, and Dongmyeong gets up to grab the lube and condom from his drawer. 

“Do you need to...” Youngjo starts, then hesitates. It's not like Youngjo to get caught up on his words, he’s not shy when it comes to sex, or anything else really, so Dongmyeong is confused. Then Youngjo coughs a little. “You and Keonhee, um.” 

Dongmyeong bursts out into laughter. “He didn’t finger me, if that’s what you’re asking.” From the flush that creeps up Youngjo’s neck, he knows that he’s right. “I topped, if you can believe that.” 

“You did?” Youngjo’s eyes widen, and he makes a poor attempt at disguising his surprise. “I mean, it’s not like I didn’t think you could, if you wanted to, I just didn’t think... I mean, you’ve never...” 

Dongmyeong climbs back onto the bed, pecking Youngjo’s lips to shut him up. “I don’t usually,” he clarifies. “I like bottoming more. But sometimes, yeah, if the mood strikes, or if my partner wants me to...” There’s an unspoken question in between them— _would_ you _want me to?_ —but Dongmyeong doesn’t ask. They’ll have plenty of time for that later. “But right now, I want you inside me.” 

Youngjo’s hips buck up automatically, and Dongmyeong giggles. “So needy,” he teases. 

“You don’t get to say shit like that and then get onto me for being needy.” Youngjo pouts, and Dongmyeong leans in to kiss it away. 

“I just did, though.” He grins, and before Youngjo can protest again, he sits up, sliding his boxer briefs off and tossing them onto the floor. He reaches for the lube, but Youngjo stops him with a hand on his wrist. Dongmyeong looks at him in confusion. 

“Can I?” Youngjo asks. 

Dongmyeong considers for a moment before handing the bottle over to him. “Go ahead,” he says, turning around to make it easier for him. 

It’s a transfer of power, one that Dongmyeong doesn’t usually allow. He can’t see what Youngjo is doing like this, can’t prepare himself for the feeling of a slick fingertip circling his rim, can only gasp and push his hips back towards Youngjo when he feels it. He wants it, he wants all of this so badly, and for once he allows Youngjo to see that. 

Youngjo slides his finger in, and Dongmyeong opens up for it easily. He doesn’t really need the prep, but Youngjo's fingers are longer and thicker than Dongmyeong’s are, and it feels nice. 

“You can add more,” he says after a few moments, once he realizes Youngjo’s not going to go further without permission. And then Youngjo does, and Dongmyeong can’t bite back the moan that leaves his lips, because fuck, Youngjo’s fingers are a lot longer than his own. 

“Is there a problem?” Youngjo asks, and Dongmyeong can hear the smirk in his voice. 

He grits his teeth, scratching at one of Youngjo’s thighs. “This is why I don’t let you do this, fuck,” he groans, rocking his hips back when Youngjo’s fingers prod deeper. He has a sneaking suspicion he knows what Youngjo's searching for, and those suspicions are confirmed when Youngjo crooks his fingers up, pressing against Dongmyeong’s prostate. “Fuck you, fuck!” he cries out, thighs shaking from the pleasure. 

And then Youngjo’s fingers are gone, and Dongmyeong whines, empty. 

He hears the sound of a condom wrapper tearing open, then a quiet hiss from Youngjo. He turns around just in time to see him finish rolling the condom on. “I can’t wait anymore,” he says when Dongmyeong looks at him. “I need to be inside you again.” 

Dongmyeong can’t really argue with that. He straddles Youngjo, settling so he’s just above his cock. He twitches beneath him, and Dongmyeong would tease him for that if he wasn’t so goddamn needy himself. 

“You will be,” he promises, moving so the tip of Youngjo's cock presses against his rim. “Fuck, need you inside me too.” He steadies his hands on Youngjo’s chest before sinking down, both of them moaning when he does. 

If kissing Youngjo is like flames licking his skin, this is an inferno, swallowing him up and burning until there’s nothing left. They’ve done this so many times before, too many times for Dongmyeong to count, but now that he’s not trying so hard to convince himself it means nothing, he feels everything so much more intensely. 

“No one fills me up like you,” he confesses, eyes shut like it’s a prayer, as he slowly takes in every inch. “No one—fuck—makes me feel so good, so worshipped, so—” 

He’s cut off by Youngjo’s hands on his cheeks, his lips on his. “Loved,” he breathes, when Youngjo lets him go, staring into his eyes. “No one else makes me feel so loved.” 

“None of them love you like I do,” Youngjo says. Dongmyeong knows it to be true. 

Geonhak, Keonhee, Giwook—they all love Dongmyeong, and Dongmyeong loves them too, but it isn’t this kind of love: the kind of love that feels like setting himself on fire over and over again, so all-consuming and terrifying. That’s why he ran from it. But now that he’s here, with Youngjo inside of him, looking at him like he would hang all the stars in the sky for him if Dongmyeong only asked, he can’t imagine wanting anything else. 

“I love you too,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Right now, it feels like it is. He lifts himself up, gasping at the feeling of being empty, then full again as he sinks back down. Youngjo reaches for his hand, intertwining their fingers, and it’s so goddamn sappy and tender but it makes Dongmyeong’s heart flutter. 

“Want you to cum inside,” he murmurs. “Next time,” he quickly adds, before Youngjo gets any ideas. “I’ll get tested, and then... if you want, we can...” 

“I would love that.” Youngjo squeezes his hand. “Would love to fill you up, baby.” 

_Baby_. 

“That’s goddess to you,” Dongmyeong corrects, mostly to distract from the way that pet name has his heart racing like a lovesick teenager. There are some levels of vulnerability he still isn’t ready for. 

Luckily, Youngjo takes the hint. “My mistake, goddess.” He brings their intertwined hands to his lips and kisses Dongmyeong’s fingers. 

“Don’t make it again,” Dongmyeong teases, his tone lighthearted. This isn’t a scene, really, right now they’re just Dongmyeong and Youngjo. And that’s enough. 

Youngjo moves his hands to Dongmyeong’s hips, holding him steady as he rocks up and down on Youngjo’s cock. It isn’t long before Dongmyeong’s legs are shaking again, body tiring from two rounds of sex in a matter of hours. 

“Do I get the honor of making you cum?” Youngjo asks. He’s trying to play it up, obnoxiously subservient, but Dongmyeong can tell from the rasp in his voice that he’s close too. 

Dongmyeong laughs, but it’s shaky, betraying how affected he really is. “Please, you’re not making me do anything. I’m just using you for my own pleasure.” 

Youngjo cups his face, pulling him closer until their lips almost touch. “Dongmyeong.” His breath is warm, and Dongmyeong wishes he would just fucking kiss him. “You and I both know that’s not true.” 

He wraps his hand around Dongmyeong’s cock, and Dongmyeong whimpers, the sound swallowed up by Youngjo finally kissing him again. He rocks into Youngjo’s hand, shameless, allowing himself to want and feel everything he wouldn’t last time. Youngjo parts his lips with his tongue, and within moments, Dongmyeong cums. 

Youngjo follows soon after, and Dongmyeong keeps riding him through it, whining as his high wears off and he starts to feel too sensitive. 

This time, there’s no alarm that goes off after, no warning to remind them their shared moments have a time limit. There’s only silence and the sound of their own heavy breathing as Dongmyeong collapses onto Youngjo’s chest. Youngjo runs his fingers through Dongmyeong’s hair while they come back down to earth, and Dongmyeong lets him. 

“So you love me,” he says softly, as if speaking too loudly might shatter everything. 

“Yes.” Youngjo’s voice is just as quiet, fingers stilling in Dongmyeong’s hair. “And you love me.” 

Dongmyeong nods. 

“We should do something about that, maybe.” 

Dongmyeong shifts to look at him, wincing a little when the motion reminds him Youngjo’s softening cock is still in his ass. He carefully lifts himself off of him before continuing. “Like what?” 

“Well usually when two people are in love with each other, they try dating,” Youngjo starts. 

Dongmyeong knows he’s being 100% sincere, but he can’t help but laugh. “Hyung, if this is your way of trying to ask me out, you are officially never allowed to call yourself a Romeo. Because you suck at it.” 

Youngjo gapes at him like his pride has been wounded. “Like you would’ve taken me seriously if I tried a sappy confession!” 

And Youngjo is right, because Dongmyeong wouldn’t have. But he won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

He’s saved from answering by the buzzing of his cell phone. “I swear to God, if that’s one of the members saying they’re almost home...” He gets up to fish his phone out of his sweatpants pocket, reading the notification on his lock screen. 

It’s from Giwook. “Haven't heard from you in a while. Do I need to bring pizza and ice cream home?” He really is the sweetest. 

“No need,” he texts back. “I think I might have a boyfriend now.” 

Dongmyeong turns back to the bed, giving Youngjo his most innocent smile. "We’re in luck. Giwook’s still at his studio, so there’s time if we want to shower together.” 

Youngjo groans in faux protest, but he sits up almost immediately, the bed creaking as he gets to his feet. 

Dongmyeong doesn’t say anything else until they’re crowded together in the shower that definitely wasn’t built for two people, hot water running over their bodies and easing away any tension left in them. “Anyway, if you were asking me out... my answer is yes.” 

He doesn’t know yet how they'll tell the other members, or if this will make things awkward with the ones he’s slept with. They'll have to deal with that at some point, Dongmyeong knows. But as Youngjo pushes him against the wall of the shower and kisses him again, and again, and again, Dongmyeong can’t bring himself to care. They have plenty of time to worry about that later. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are always appreciated. <3


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